Fearless Magic (3 page)

A few times, I set up the small pop-up tent that fit easily into my backpack and slipped into the exhausted, dreamless sleep of the well worn. I hadn't truly been able to sleep since before.... since before the battle and always I woke in pools of cold sweat, screaming and lashing out. The nightmares kept the wild animals away and my magic kept my blood warm in the frozen temperatures once the sun was set.

Nightmares plagued my sleep since Avalon was taken. Every time my eyes closed the haunting torment of my subconscious attacked and I was always thankful just to be awake, gasping for air and clutching my throat, but awake.

At first, I wondered if maybe they were dream-walks, that I was being tortured in a subconscious sleep-world without my knowledge. But, always before, the dream-walk had been done consciously, and I was always capable of remembering the details when I awoke. These nightmares were fuzzy and disorienting and always, the particulars slipped away before I could put them together.

I breathed in relief, finally making my way past the modern structures set up as gift shops and ticket booths and to the doorway leading into the age-old city. It was very early in the morning and there was not a soul around. I stepped carefully through the stone passageway and onto the rough carefully shaped rock walkways that stood the test of time.

I was alone. At this height, and with the ancient city sprawling down the mountainside at my feet, I was never more alone. I walked the stone pathways and up the hundreds of stone steps to the highest point of the Incan citadel.

I stood next to a wide square stone that was taller than me and housed some kind of pyramid built onto the top of it and felt myself moved again. Machu Picchu was a religious experience, a moment in my life when my soul felt bigger than my body.

I stood with arms wide and chin tipped towards the sun rising in the east, over the pointed mountain peaks. I breathed the thin, crisp air finding a perspective bigger than me, bigger than my problems. I stayed like that for a while, drinking in the sacredness surrounding me.

The Shape-shifter colony was close, the magic grew steadily stronger the deeper into the mountains I hiked and now I could feel the direction it was located in, clearly. Pressed with urgency until this moment, I took in the height of an antiquated citadel that still stood, despite the modern world, as a gateway to the past. The hundreds of buildings made from chiseled stone, stairs worn with age and use, and religious structures for archaic gods all but forgotten, shined as sobering reminders that kingdoms rise and fall. I was just a small piece in the tides of change that dictated the currents of life. I had a part to play, but if I failed, someone else would rise. Injustice would not always be victor of this life.

The magic began to grow stronger, my blood igniting with the warning signs of an approaching magic. I dropped my arms, and opened my eyes, but I would not move. Whoever was out there would come to me.

A flash of black between two stone columns caught my attention. I witnessed wild animals along the hike here, but the soft coat of an alpaca was nothing quite like the sleek black fur of a wild panther. I tilted my head, waiting for the man to turn back human.

"I was coming to you," I called out before the man made himself known. "You didn't have to meet me."

"You're confident that you could have found us?" he asked in his rich Jamaican accent, smugly assured that I would not have been able to.

Silas stepped from behind the stone archway, leading up to the sacred high place. His skin was as dark as the fur of his panther shape. He wore the same brown work pants and forest green sweater I saw him in the night I first time we met.

"I guess, we will never know," I replied, not willing to humble myself, but not wanting to insult him either.

"So, you have come then. It has gone badly," Silas stated, and his words felt like a harsh accusation.

"Yes, but you knew that it would," I answered. We stood awkwardly far apart from each other. I expected a warm greeting and a man thankful that I came to him, but he eyed me suspiciously from a distance as if I were a threat.

"Still, I had hoped things would go.... differently." He looked passed me, at the surrounding mountains. His gray eyes clouded with sorrow, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"So did I," I surprised myself with morbid sarcasm.

"The old man?" Silas asked, ignoring my poor attempt at dark humor.

"Dead," I declared simply and then cleared my throat quickly.

Silas took a step back as if I had slapped him before continuing, "And the boy?"

"Taken," I responded in the same way.

"And you?" His eyes flashed back to suspicion and then met me with new interest. "How is it that you are here?"

His question surprised me. "You are the one who told me to come," I lashed out angrily. How dare he give me cryptic instructions and then question my obedience.

"Did I tell you to take so many magics? You are radiating with stolen blood." His eyes turned from suspicion to hard distrust.

"Yes, I am. So, what?" I crossed my arms defensively. "Do you know what it was like when they came for my family? Were you there?" It was my turn to accuse, but I answered my own questions before he even opened his mouth to speak, "No, you were not. You were here, protected by your mountains and hidden from sight. My people were massacred. They were betrayed. My grandfather was murdered and my brother kidnapped. Do not question my stolen magics when I was fighting to save those that I loved most," my voice broke, and a hot tear fell free from the prison of my eye and slipped without permission down my rain soaked cheek.

"And so you take other's magic without remorse?" he asked, disbelieving.

"I have remorse!" I screamed at the old man, my voice echoing off the mountains in a chorus of anger.

"No," he accused quietly. "No, you are an evil thing now. Unrecognizable and evil," his voice dropped to a whisper, but I had no trouble hearing his accusations.

I knew that he was right.

"Will you help me?" I cut to the chase, unwilling to continue the hurtful small talk.

"No, we will not help you," he vowed simply and with finality. He turned from me; this conversation was over.

I watched him leave. I came here for nothing. He would not help me and I had nowhere else to go. Worst of all, I realized the last of my fears. I wasn't myself anymore. I wasn't a future queen, or the next Oracle. I had slipped into an evil version of myself, the greatness that was once been whispered with my name would stay a hushed murmur that floated away with the wind. I wasn't recognizable anymore; Silas had said it.

I was evil. There was no more good left.

Chapter Three

I stood alone for a moment longer. Silas disappeared; I could not move from the weight of his words. He was right. There was no more good. The circumstances that happened the night I was betrayed bled me of my purity and virtue.

But still, I wanted good for this people.

"Wait," I shouted after Silas, although I was sure he was already gone. I pictured him shifting into a sleek, black panther and disappearing easily into the density of the mountain side. "Please, wait!" my voice broke with the panic of a desperate person. I would drown without guidance. I was too alone to find my way. Even if I was evil, I was still the only hope this people had and if I were left alone, I would never find the way.

I ran through a stone archway leading to worn, uneven steps made from the same rock. The magic was sharp in my blood, a boiling, electric storm that quickened my step and gave my legs courage. I ran after Silas, following his magic to the main courtyards of the ancient city.

"Silas!" I yelled, stopping at the base of the steps and letting my voice echo off the mountain peaks. "What if I am evil? So what?" I chided loudly at the emptiness. "I
have
to be evil. I have to forget the good, if I want to do this for real."

"And what is it that you want to do?" Silas stepped around a stone building, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

"I want to end the monarchy," I promised simply and with finality.

"To end it? All of it?" The old Shape-shifter rocked back on his heels, suspicious eyes becoming amused, and I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever the topic between us would be, I would always be defending myself.

"Yes, all of it," I folded my arms defiantly, mimicking him and unwilling to back down again.

"And so you welcome evil in order to accomplish this goal?" his Caribbean accent was thick and melodic, but demanding.

"No, I do not welcome it. Of course not," I protested hoarsely, relieved that I felt the words to the core of my being. "But, what I have to do
is
evil. Whether or not I believe in the monarchy or the king or whatever, taking a life is the worst kind of corruption. And if I truly want to finish.... this.... I have to be.... I need to be.... at least part of me, has to be evil," I paused for a moment, struggling to find the words to describe the thoughts that rattled around in my head unspoken since the night I lost my family. "I intend to massacre a bloodline. That is an evil thing. But also, my intentions are a part of me. And because of that, I am evil."

"Ah, I see," Silas stood unmoving, his gray eyes flickering with understanding, but not with forgiveness. "And right and wrong? Do you still see the difference?"

"Yes, but does it matter?" I wondered for a moment if I helped or hurt my cause. "I have only stolen magic until now; I have never taken a life. And, honestly, I never thought I would get to this point. I never thought I would devalue anyone enough to end his life, but here we are. You have my exact objectives. But, I will not go beyond the Kendrick household. Well, maybe Sebastian.... I haven't decided yet."

"Interesting," Silas mumbled quietly. "so, when the monarchy is gone, when you have killed off all possible heirs, then what? Will you take the crown? Anoint yourself and rule as the good queen?"

"No," I answered quickly. The word "queen" resuscitated my heart in a way that brought painful memories of promises made, of an easier way once daydreamed to save my people and then stabbed at my soul, screaming reminders that my future would never include a crown. "Never queen," I cleared my throat, banishing the emotion before continuing, "I just want this finished, I just want to go back to the way things used to be. I don't care what you people do after the monarchy is gone. Honestly, I don't even want to be the next Oracle. I just want normal."

"You don't want to be the next Oracle?" Silas mocked harshly, cutting through me. "There is no 'next' Oracle. Child you
are
the Oracle."

I stood there stunned, unable to open my mouth. I knew this day was coming, I was told enough times that I would be the next Oracle that the truth of the phrase sunk in. But always before, I pictured the realization of the moment differently. I imagined the monarchy gone, Avalon at my side, my friends out of danger, and maybe a ceremony of some sort.

I did not pictured this, that in the wake of the worst tragedy I ever knew, alone on the top of a mountain, begging for help from a man who insisted on calling me evil, I would be told that I was the Oracle. The whole scenario seemed surreal and not serious enough.

"That can't be true," I objected.

"And why shouldn't it be?" Silas asked, the hint of amusement back in his voice. "The only other surviving Oracle is dead; you remain the only one of our people left that has true immortality and you possess the magic of every kind in our people. How can you doubt that what I say is true? It is in your blood. You are the Oracle, whether the monarchy lives or dies, that will not change."

"What about Avalon?" I asked, dumbfounded. I was still trying to sort out my imagination from reality and was having trouble making sense of it.

"Your brother? What about him?" Silas asked, the smallest hint of impatience marking his expression.

"Well, if I am an Oracle, shouldn't he be one too? We have the same magic." I stated plainly, swallowing the rising lump trying to remind me that we used to have the same magic. Avalon no longer possessed any magic. I had it all.

"Sure, why not?" Silas laughed harshly, "but he is at the bottom of a Romanian prison. He will not keep his magic for long, and then you will share that title with the king you intend to destroy."

"No, that isn't true. Avalon doesn't have any magic to sacrifice, I have it all," I clarified, trusting Silas and then instantly regretting sharing so much with a man I hardly knew and that would not trust me the same in return.

"How can that be?" Silas asked skeptically, his gray eyes clouding and un-clouding with every hint of emotion he felt.

"He gave it to me the night of his capture. He had to, we both knew that he would be sacrificed for it. And now I have it, and because he is human, Lucan will not kill him until he has me," I dared Silas to contradict our theory. I had nothing to really go on, nothing to help me hope that my words were true, except, that they had to be true. If I lost Avalon, if the king murdered for nothing, I would never be able to live with myself. It would be the undoing of my sanity.

"Clever," Silas said plainly, not complimenting me in the least. "So, you see, you
are
the Oracle. There is no one else."